


The Call

by ilcuoreardendo



Series: Supernatural Bites [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comment Fic, Community: comment_fic, M/M, Masturbation, Porn, Watching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 10:26:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/810522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilcuoreardendo/pseuds/ilcuoreardendo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It began with porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Call

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to a prompt on the [LJ Comment-Fic](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com) community. The prompt was "watching you, watching me."

 

* * *

 

It began with porn. (According to Dean, many things do.)

Castiel had been watching humans since their beginning, interested in the progress of his Father’s creations—their great inventions, great losses, greater wars—amused and enthralled by their desire to reach for things they could never hope to achieve. But he had never paid much attention to the individuals, the minutiae of any one person’s life. 

Until Dean. 

And the porn. 

It was…fascinating to observe human mating practices. The varied formations of bodies, the many ways in which they interlocked and the often confusing positions . Though he had been told—by Sam, who had taken him aside after a particularly inquisitive bout of questioning that had seen Dean leaving the room in a hurry, his face a truly impressive shade of red (Castiel hadn’t known a human could be that color)—that many of the acts shown in porn were more of an exaggerated facsimile of what actually went on between humans.  

He had briefly considered observing some individuals in private, but then Dean had been kidnapped by a coven of Druidic witches and he’d dismissed it. 

Until tonight. Until the call. It was not…like a normal call. Not like a prayer raised in his name. But he felt that unmistakable urge, that tug in his grace that had him disappearing from the top of a glacier in the antarctic and reappearing in a dimly lit motel room, empty except for Dean who sprawled on a bed, his shirt raked up and his pants open, his eyes closed and his hand around—

 _Oh_. Castiel averted his eyes. But he had always been too curious for his own good and he found himself looking up, watching intently with what Dean would often called his “perv-stalker face” as Dean ran the thumb of his hand over the tip of his phallus, again and again until his breath came out in a low, vibrating hiss. “Cas.”

And  _that_  startled Castiel out of his quiet, urged him forward until he stood next to the bed and Dean who, seeming not at all surprised by the presence of the angel looming over him, opened his eyes and held Castiel’s gaze until he groaned and shuddered and his spine arched and Castiel’s full name fell from his lips like a prayer or a curse. 

 

 


End file.
